


Ghost

by Beeblebrox-For-President (unfortunately7)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Ghost Of A Texas Ladies' Man by Concrete Blonde, Implied Sexual Content, Songfic, Stalking, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunately7/pseuds/Beeblebrox-For-President
Summary: Reader never believed in ghosts.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Winter Soldier (James Barnes)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble based on a good song. Hope you like it!

_I saw a face in the shower door  
A cowboy smile came and faded  
I reached for my towel on the floor  
I didn't think it was exactly where I'd laid it_

You used to not believe in ghosts. Your grandmother had always told you stories of little girls who didn’t listen getting haunted by things that go bump in the night as punishment. You knew they were just made up, meant to frighten you into obedience.

But now that steadfast belief was getting shaken.

It had started out as little things, a few misplaced belongings here and there. The stove turned off when you left the kitchen while cooking. A drawer in your bedroom jostled slightly out of place. Your purse on the hook beside the door instead of on the chair.

Easily explained away as slips of the mind.

And then you began noticing other things, stranger occurrences. 

Clothing missing. Your blankets unfolded, scattered over your bed, when you were sure you had left them neatly folded before you left for work. A lamp burning brightly when you woke up.

Still, perhaps you were imagining things.

Your grandmother’s voice rang in your ears.

“Enkelin,” she sang, “be careful. Listen or they’ll get you.”

Just stories, you told yourself, just stories.

Your window was open. Not just a crack, wide open. The cold air blew in, bringing spits of rain that soaked the carpet.

It had started raining at noon. You worked from 6AM to 7PM. You never left work.

You shook as you drew the hand pistol from the desk beside your bed. You shut the window, locking it tightly. The pistol wasn’t loaded, but hopefully it could deter an intruder.

You sat on the couch, shivering. A blanket was pulled tight around your body and head, only your face exposed. The handgun was tucked into the cushions.

You stayed up all night.

_“You don't scare me, you don't scare me," I said  
To whatever it was floating in the air above my bed  
He knew I'd understand  
He was the ghost of a Texas ladies' man_

By morning, you had relaxed somewhat. The house had been quiet all night. Not a sign of anything amiss. The fresh sunlight streamed in the windows, easing your nerves.

Nothing of value had been missing. None of your belongings were disturbed. Perhaps the window had been bumped by a bird or a squirrel? It was possible you had left it slightly open and something had merely jostled it further.

You shed your blanket and retreated to the kitchen. Spots of dawn light dappled the floor. You wrangled your old coffee maker, ready for your morning brew. You didn’t have work today, so you could catch up on chores and rest.

Speaking of chores, you thought, you had a pile of laundry on your bed. You poured your coffee and walked to your bedroom.

It was all folded neatly, even organized by color. You stood frozen in place, trying to comprehend what you were seeing.

You hadn’t done that. You’d been too scared to fold them the night before.

A large arm wrapped around you. Your mug dropped to the floor as you screamed. A large hand clapped over your mouth.

“Shhh,” the ghost hushed, his breath warm against your ear, “Shhh.”

The ghost spun you around. Your back hit the wall, your hands scrambling over the drywall. Blue eyes like chips of quartz fixed you in place. His hand wrapped around your neck as you tried to regain your composure to run. It was cold, metallic.

You didn’t think ghost would have prosthetic limbs.

His dark hair concealed part of his face. The rest was hidden by a mask. His flesh hand pressed against your hip, fingers splayed over your heated flesh where your shirt had ridden up.

He leaned closer to you. His gaze flitted over you, hardly staying in one place for more than a few moments. He seemed confused, just as you were.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his flesh-hand crept up your abdomen, kneading and caressing your skin. You were too scared to move, to scared to speak. That metal hand could crush your neck like a twig.

_I reached to turn out the light  
He wouldn't let me get near it  
He seemed so glad to see a woman in the flesh  
And I really liked his spirit_

He muttered something in an unfamiliar language. His voice was like silk, startlingly soft and deep. In any other situation you would’ve found it mesmerizing.

“Mne nuzhno… moye.”

His metal hand tightened around your neck. The blood was ruching in your ears. It was difficult to breath. The other hand edged beneath your bra.

“Tak znakomo…”

His eyes fixed on yours. He seemed to be searching for something. Circles of darkness spotted your vision.

_"You don't scare me, you don't scare me," I cried  
To my ectoplasmic lover from the other side  
He knew I'd understand  
He was the ghost of a Texas ladies' man_

He pushed up your shirt and removed your bra. The straps snapped easily in his grip.

“Prekransyy.”


End file.
